


Such great heights

by errantknightess



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Acrophobia, Ferris Wheels, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 07:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21070994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/errantknightess/pseuds/errantknightess
Summary: Being cramped so close next to Noctis doesn't bother Prompto at all – but being cramped in a small, flimsy box a hundred meters off the ground? Yeah, that’s a problem. Aren't fairs supposed to be fun?





	Such great heights

Insomnia is a patchwork of black and gold below their feet. Spots of lights litter the ground, flickering in bright clusters like some unknown constellations. Usually it’s hard to see the actual stars with all the light pollution from the city, but from this high up, they’re kind of visible too – pale, but there.

That’s what Prompto tries to focus on, looking up instead of down at the dizzying distance back to earth. They’re not even at the top yet; the Ferris wheel spins so slowly that he can barely feel them move. But he _knows_ it’s carrying them farther away with every second, and he really doesn’t need the reminder. So instead he sits back and stares at the purple sky through the transparent walls of the pod. They’re covered in tiny flecks and scratches, like an image from a badly tuned TV. There’s a thin crack in the plexiglass where it meets the metal frame, and another one right above his head.

“This thing has seen better days,” Prompto observes in a weak voice. “You think it will hold us?”

Noctis shrugs with the same unfazed face he always wears. It’s a good look on him, even in the dim ambient light of the cabin.

“Gladio wouldn’t have let me ride if it wasn’t safe. He’d been fussing about security issues for a week. No worries.”

The nonchalance with which he says it is a bit reassuring. Prompto lets himself relax, melting against the hard plastic bench.

“I’m surprised he didn’t insist on riding with you. As your Shield and all,” he muses.

“Not like he could shield me from much up here,” Noctis snorts. “Imagine swinging his sword in this tiny thing.”

“Right.” Prompto glances up over his shoulder, where he can almost see the car that Ignis and Gladio took. “I hope they’re okay. I mean, Ignis kind of had to fold in half to get in and Gladio’s twice the size of a normal person. That can’t be comfortable.”

“They wanted to ride together anyway,” Noctis says. “They’ll be fine. But yeah, it sure looked bigger from the outside.” He pokes the opposite wall with the toe of his boot; he can’t even stretch his leg all the way. “Sorry about that.”

“I don’t mind,” Prompto says quickly. Noct’s arm brushes against his, skin still chilly from the night air outside.

“That’s good.” Noctis gives him a wry smile. “Cause we’re stuck here for one more spin after this.”

In fact, Prompto does mind a little. Being cramped so close next to Noct never bothers him – but being cramped in a small, flimsy box a hundred meters off the ground? Yeah, that’s a problem. There’s no way to solve it now, though, so Prompto does what he does best and tries to shove it deep down with the rest of his problems. They’re almost halfway through, anyway. He can make it. As long as he doesn’t look down.

He takes a deep breath, clenches his fists and stares ahead, where the sea of lights spills over the horizon.

“This city’s so big,” Noctis says quietly. He sounds a bit scared, too, but in a whole different way. Like he’s overwhelmed to realize how much he’ll be responsible for one day.

“Yeah.” Prompto nudges him with his knee. His leg keeps bouncing nervously. “We don’t really think about it every day, huh? It’s easy to forget. Even though it takes me over an hour just to get back home from school.”

Noctis cranes his neck, the tip of his nose just shy of touching the glass. “Can you see your house from here?”

“Nope, it’s way too far from the center… I can see yours, though.” Prompto grins, pointing at the twin towers of the Citadel shooting up over the rest of the city.

“Smartass,” Noctis snorts. Then he leans over Prompto’s lap, screening his eyes with one hand. “Oh hey, my apartment building is down there, too.”

“This one?” Prompto’s hand wavers. He’s been there dozens of times, knows the way with his eyes closed, but now all the familiar streets are just a bunch of shiny dotted lines. And he really doesn’t want to look at them for too long.

“There.” Noctis grabs his hand and pulls it over the glass, pointing the way. “See that big Ebony billboard? It’s just to the left.”

“Oh.” Prompto nods, staring at their linked hands. His palm feels sweaty in Noctis’s grip. His head starts to spin, even though he’s making an effort not to look down. Noctis is still leaning on him, and still doesn’t let go. Prompto wants to make light of it, scrambles for a joke, but he bites his tongue just in time.

And then he _really_ bites his tongue. The car jolts, the metal bearings screech like a dying zu, and the lights outside stop getting away.

“Ow,” Noct groans from where he’s crumpled in a heap on top of him. He’s clutching his nose, like he’s face-planted into the window. Prompto grabs him by the shoulders and carefully helps him sit back up.

“You okay?” he asks, hands hovering uncertainly over Noct’s face.

“Yeah.” Noctis pulls his own hand away, and it looks like that’s true. He looks around with a frown. “We’ve stopped?”

“Seems like it,” Prompto says, trying and failing to keep his voice from cracking. “What do you think happened?”

Noctis pulls a face. “No idea. The lights are still on, though. Can’t be anything serious. They’re probably gonna turn it on again in a moment.”

Prompto almost believes him. Wants so badly to believe him. “But what if they don’t? What if we have to climb down on our own?”

“I could try warping us both if I have to,” Noctis says. “Better just wait, though. They must have some way to get people down safely if they can’t make it move.”

“Right,” Prompto mutters, more to himself. “That makes sense. Figures they can’t risk it. And they should play it extra safe, since they know _you’re_ here.” He looks at Noct and watches his face fall between two blinks. Neither of them voices what they both must be thinking: what if that’s exactly the reason?

They sit listening to the silence, stock still save for the shiver rattling Prompto’s body. Noctis sure must feel it too for how close they’re pressed side by side, but if he does, he doesn’t say anything. Prompto starts counting the passing seconds, then stops as they turn into minutes: it’s just making him even more nervous.

But nothing happens. There are no shouts, no blaring sirens, no commotion in the brightly lit patch of the fairgrounds as he peeks down between his knees through that damn transparent floor. In a way, this weird calm is comforting. If something was going to happen, it would be happening already.

The pod sways slightly, and for a blessed half second Prompto thinks they’re starting to move again. But then it sways once more, harder, and it’s nothing like the smooth, steady climb from before.

“What’s going on?” He hates how high his voice sounds, even though that’s the last thing he should be worried about now. The car stills for a moment, then trembles again, in a short, uneven burst.

“It’s just the wind,” Noctis says, and now that Prompto listens for it, there _is_ that faint familiar whistle underneath all the ominous rattling. Still, he pulls as far from the wall as he can, until his shoulder is buried under Noct’s armpit and Noct’s elbow might leave a permanent imprint between his ribs. He doesn’t care. And apparently Noctis doesn’t either, because when he shifts, it’s only to reach for Prompto’s arm and squeeze lightly.

“I didn’t know you were scared of heights,” he mutters. There’s no teasing bite to it. He sounds almost apologetic, as if he had anything to apologize for. Prompto lets out an awkward laugh, a near perfect imitation of the squeaking metal around them.

“I didn’t know either, dude. Never been high enough to find out.”

“Lucky you.” Noctis laughs too, and Prompto’s stomach backflips like it always does. “When I was a kid, I got stuck on the ceiling once.”

“_What?_”

“Yeah, it was dumb,” Noct says flatly; his fingers tap a broken rhythm on Prompto’s wrist. “There are those beams way up across the ceiling in the training hall… And I was finally _just_ getting the hang of warping, and I thought it would be fun to walk on them. You know, like in video games?” He rolls his eyes, like he’s too embarrassed to meet Prompto’s. “So I warped. And it _was_ pretty cool. But then I dropped my sword, and I couldn’t warp back anymore. And there was no other way down. So I sat there. For hours. Gladio was absolutely pissed when he found me. But then he made fun of me for _weeks_, so… yeah. Now you can too, I guess.”

Noctis looks up at last, and they stare at each other while Prompto fights to get the words through his throat. He doesn’t feel like laughing.

“Dude, that’s…” His mouth feels dry at the very thought. He leans back and the skin at the base of his spine crawls before he hits the bench, like for a blink it just wasn’t there and he was about to tip over into the void. “Yikes. Instant trauma.”

“I was trying to distract you.” Noctis looks at him sideways, scrunching up his nose to match Prompto’s own grimace. “Not helping, huh?”

“Nope.” Prompto cringes into him and clenches his fist into the leg of Noctis’s pants. Maybe if he holds onto something, his body will stop feeling like he’s seconds away from falling. He stares at his feet, trying to remind himself they’re still firmly planted on the floor, but it really does nothing when through that floor he can clearly see the matchbox buildings and pinhead figures all the way down, down, _down_…

“Hey.” Noct grabs him by the chin and pulls his head up, fixing him with a serious ice-blue gaze. “Don’t look at it. Look at me.”

So Prompto does. It makes his stomach drop the same way, even though the specks of light in Noct’s eyes are so much closer than the ones on the ground. But Noct’s fingers are holding him firm, warm on his skin, and he knows it’s fine. It’s fine. He won’t fall.

He breathes out slowly. The air swirls between them, hitting him hot in the face. Prompto blinks against it, but can’t bring himself to open his eyes again. The tips of Noct’s hair tickle his cheek. Another puff of breath melts on his lips, and then he tastes warmth and chapped skin and the cloying ghost of cotton candy that they both stuffed themselves with right before the ride. It’s even sweeter now. Prompto leans in to chase it, to drink in as much of it as he can. Noct’s mouth is soft and shy, pressing back lightly, just enough to make Prompto’s breath hitch. As far as distraction goes, this is much better.

His head is spinning. Everything starts to sway. Then Noctis yelps against his lips, and Prompto realizes it’s not just in his head. His eyes fly open as he loses his balance and tumbles backward. Noct’s forehead slams into his, so hard he sees white. By the time he blinks it away, he’s slumped against the wall of the pod; Noctis is braced on his elbow over him, and the city lights are slowly crawling away underneath them.

“That took quicker than I thought,” Noctis says. There’s no relief in his voice. It almost sounds disappointed.

He skims his fingers over the throbbing spot between Prompto’s eyebrows. It’s brief, barely there, but Prompto still feels his skin tingle even as Noct pulls away to give him space. Not that there’s a lot of space he can get. When he sits up, they’re face to face once again, and Noctis’s eyes are the bluest they’ve ever been.

Prompto smiles awkwardly – he _knows_ it’s awkward, it has to be; his mouth is twitching and stretching and he can’t control it, no more than he can control his frantic heartbeat. The sinking feeling in his stomach is pulling him down like a lead weight. The gaping space down below is just waiting to swallow him.

So Prompto does the only thing that makes sense: closes his eyes and tucks that stupid smile against Noct’s lips.

It tickles when Noctis smiles back, filling him with a surprised laugh. His hand finds Prompto’s, brushing gently over his knuckles as he laces their fingers together. Holding him safely. He doesn’t let go for a moment while the wheel slowly dips to finish the first round.

When they start to soar again, Prompto is not afraid of falling anymore. He feels like flying.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a lot for reading! :D And if you're interested in random headcanons, dumb puns and occasional cryptic updates on my ficcing, you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Err_417).


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